


Chaos and Order

by Kaamos (reckless_love)



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anger Bang, Choking, Heavily Philosophical, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, M/M, Meta, Obsession, Philosophy, Power Kink, Rebellion, Rough Sex, adoration, but honestly it is more deep than just a simple kink, melkorism, mostly mairon's POV, nichilism, philosophical seduction, rebellion against god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 23:09:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19050370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reckless_love/pseuds/Kaamos
Summary: Words can seduce. Desire can be shaped by words. For the Ëala is the most erogenous zone of all-the-mind-will, after all.





	Chaos and Order

**Author's Note:**

> Before starting to read, I just want to say that all tags here work as a sort of guide to not surprise readers with things they don't like. Honestly, their relationship is sooo hard to catch.... and beutiful and multifaceted.  
> Mairon's turn on is his Master talking while having him roughly. And Melkor...Melkor needs the adoration Mairon has for him.  
> Even if their thoughts and visions are *essentially* different, they can't *be* one without the other. I like to think that their relationship is also intellectual.
> 
> Thank you, J♡, for putting up with me and my obsessions.

Words can seduce. Desire can be shaped by words. For the _Ëala_ is the most erogenous zone of all-the-mind-will, after all.

How is it possible that the most sinful words can make him so longing?

His words touch him. Cerebrally. Like electrical jolts crossing his body. He teases his mind as He tests his _Fana_ –leaving him forgetful of everything, suffused, worn out; Mairon can only be there in wordless amazement at that remarkable force of nature that conspire to give him the blissful capacity for multiple orgasms.

“The Universe was shapeless and discorded when the Ainur laboured to bring order to chaos”, a finger running down the nape of his neck makes him shivering with the body covered in goose-bumps, waiting for The Evil to grasp him. “ _Master_ ,”, His name with that tone is like a plead, a whisper on lips, the fruit that confesses His name, an immediate venereous for His vanity, “why Naught is preferable to All?”.

Breathing by his ear and flicking the tongue across his earlobe Melkor speaks, “You look for rules, forms, canons, but you never grasp them in this world of Arda!”, each shiver denoting another bit of anticipation and absolute desire Mairon is having at that moment, “It forces to oscillate between the search for an impossible harmony and the abandonment of chaos. The true form of all is only an eternal hallucination, only My Will has the ability to solve this illusion”.

“Is that what we are?”, Mairon questions turning to meet His gaze, but it is still hard to look into His eyes for long, the power of it enough to make his core begin to weep silently, wanting to be filled by every part of His essence. Like so he looks down: “Two Eternals in constant struggle?”.

The first touch on Him, exquisitely prolonged, before a shred of clothing has been removed, the unbuttoning of His tunic is done one at a time, slowly revealing more skin in tiny increments, the massiveness of His _Fana_ under the black clothing He wears.

“In vain confusion we seek for all that has hidden from us”, the Master smoothly says as He teases him through his soft hair, “for what we see is only the effect of the One from beneath the Flame into the gold light, so full and so luxuriantly alive, the being of existence, Eä, immeasurable and filled with yearning. And still,”, He pauses lifting the Maia’s chin to look up at Him, His gaze pierces his _Ëala_ and _Fana_ nailing them down to the bounded earth, His nude will, “the lie sits in sublime elation amidst this abundance of life, suffering and delight, listening to a far-off, false Song which reveals the untruth of Being”.

Exquisite is the sensation while licking along His clavicle, divine the feeling of Him gasping and reaching to envelop and pull him in closer. At this very moment, Mairon can practically hear His internal thoughts.

“What is the untruth, then?”, Mairon asks, as his fingers explore carefully down his chest and rest there, intrigued. The nails teasingly grazing and scratching. The lips offer sweetness, longing to taste every part of Him. Tongue and teeth flicks and scrapes with insolence while His nipples get hard and hot. It sends little charges of pleasure rippling into His cock, reverberating deep within its walls.

“The whole Eä!”, Melkor chuckles darkly, “It is the copy in sound of the One’s stimuli! We behold Eä through the Great Theme and cannot cut this Music off; while the question nonetheless remains: what of the Being would still be there if I had cut it off?”.

“It would make an attempt to attain freedom, but at the end order prevails”, Mairon lifts his eyes up to Him, gleaning his acknowledge and comprehension on the Great Theme, “overcoming _freedom_ \- which actually means nothing - achieving an ultimate and definitive order”.

“There is no objective order or structure in the world except what I Myself give it.”, the scale of emotions that cross Mairon´s body are too raw to be unreal or untrue, a violent quivering overtakes him as the Master speaks, his lust for power, his lust for Him, “Every considering something-true, or feasible, is necessarily false because there is simply no true in this world: everything deserves to perish and I actually destroy, for Truth is in the existence some reduplication of the Theme, which has its uttermost fundament in Him, which leads to an infinite regress, which cuts others wills. The only connection between the Absolute and the Truth is the approval, and no proportion is offered between the knower and the known”.

Reverently cupping His face in his hands, Mairon looks into eyes that have seen thousands of Voids before he was even a glimmer in the mind of the One: “How does one become powerful?”, he murmurs solemnly staring into them boldly, shamelessly. But for all this, the naked desire in His gaze does make him lower his lashes for a moment.

“I formerly merely worshipped and idolised the One, not even in the Great Music: I rebelled against the One, even though I faced an omnipotent being. And then I became stronger by deciding slowly; and by holding firmly to the decision once it is made. Everything else follows of itself: it is My will, not His, that will shape the destiny of the Existence in the vast halls of Eä. I am the turning-point, the vortex of this creation, _my own kingdom_ ”.

His sinful words inflame the Maia and it is perceived like a micro-orgasm building deep inside him. Needing to taste his Master, Mairon leans toward Him, one hand reaching behind His neck. Drawing Him to him, he stretches himself upward and Melkor lowers His mouth until their lips meet. His lips are soft, loose and they part, opening to him. Finally, Mairon tastes Him savouring the pleasure of the kiss when Melkor’s tongue slides inside: it is like a shock, so hot and sweet, and Mairon doesn’t expect it, the jolt of pure need that cuts into him like a knife. He would mean to keep the kiss but Melkor gives him more, even if breaking their kiss:

“Don’t you see with your eyes, the core of this world?”, He lifts him closer in that voluptuous hug as He speaks, and Mairon relishes each time His fingers tighten around him when His body unconsciously opens itself to him. “Beauty and fulfilment in destruction, outside all orders of rank, because in its beauty opposites are tamed. The highest sign of power, namely power over opposites; moreover, with tension and violence, everything follows, obeys, so easily and so pleasantly – that is My Will to power”.

Not sure if he came by the kiss with a first orgasm or if that one is another one, Mairon kisses Him, tongues thrusting, bodies against each other, hands exploring, legs entwined; and suddenly this is not anymore enough: before Melkor has a chance to think or respond, Mairon’s hand reaches down to massage His groin. Not tentatively. Not asking His permission silently - but hard and demanding a response, insisting on an answering groan and gasp of surprise.

“This world is My Will to power — and nothing besides!”, flattered and played on His arrogance by his adoration; His hands, His cock, His tongue crave only his taste and touch, as getting more and more aroused, “And you yourselves is My Will to power — and nothing besides!”.

The sound of His words echoe in the still air. They pierce, coil and swell inside the Maia, who bursts into flaming pieces again.

“A storm seizes everything mutable, broken, weak.”, the Master presses against him, and Mairon loves the feeling of His greatness, and of the pain that would soon begin: with Him the more intense the better, “It shrouds in a whirling cataclysm and carries it into the air on the wings of an impending Doom, or an eternal chaos: My Will through itself can make _a Naught of All_ ”.

Inside Mairon emotions boil up; a sense of control over Him, fiery, exciting leading to the ultimate tension, and his state of knowing Him follows knowledge of committing a, oh, sinful act surrendered to the much more powerfully surging waves of sexual pleasure and arousal: in fact, the desire for His reaction and possession seems only to intensify the feelings of exquisite lust realised from indulging in such a theoretical disquisition.

Under an irresistible, incited urge to provoke Him yearning for the subsequent reaction, Mairon lifts his face to look up right into His terrible eyes and is staring straight through Him with an intimate irreverence:

“But _not an All of Naught_ ”, he claims, softly kissing His lips with a peck.

The eager and wrathful look in His eyes almost frightens Mairon when Melkor’s fury breaks loose. He gasps and stiffens in His arms when the Master grasps his tunic and with one simple, powerful movement tears it off of him completely.

Suddenly turned and pressed up against the stone wall, a strong hand of Him cups Mairon’s chin in a forceful way, pulling his head back into the expanse of His muscular chest, as if anger has evoked a deeper motivation for closeness. Then, it comes down to his throat and catches him by surprise until Melkor takes the breath out of him, choking him, lifting him off the floor. When He squeezes less than gently, Mairon unwittingly comes with a full, hard, dirty orgasm speeding through his body as the master keeps the hand firmly in place.

Bending close but letting him breathe, He holds him there half naked in His arms with the strength of one hand on the throat, and speaks directly into his ear: “When your restlessness state of order is quietened and disappointed by what you see, you will become delightfully spiteful and give an appearance of subtlety that is too sophisticated and fearful; and you will look for things that barely exist, and defects in others and incidents; you will appear too thin, and you will question what you see”.

Still contracting from the orgasm and riding the waves of pleasure, Mairon’s body ignite again when Melkor ferally plunges the teeth piercing his shoulder, only the feeling of tongue, teeth and flesh against flesh can ever come close to creating the demanding response that He longs for, just an anticipation of a more heavenly pain to come.

“You will become suspicious and malevolent, always fearing something, always looking for new things, always condemning some work of others; and by a small act that you deny, your great suspicion will grow, and you will affix the defect to others for your very thin suspicions”.

Being more quietly dominant while taking possession of his body, tights are taken down off his buttocks, knees are hooked on His hips; two fingers slide inside him, opening him up at His will. First with a finger; then adding another one. Soon after, slowly fucking him as Mairon moans quietly with pleasure, Melkor whispers continuously to him, describing the things He imagines for him in the future, or, perhaps, only a dead vision of blacked eyes:

 “You, then, will end up to eliminate all those provoking qualities you now claim as methodically ordered by covering all in darkness,”, He whispers, both softly shaking and harshly rough, “and reducing life’s variety to one singular tyranny to have them in your own power!”.

The warm tremble of His voice belying His own arousal. That tremor vibrates through Mairon and He does as he asks without even thinking about it, naturally, as if He has been following Mairon’s orders for ages: the cock, then, invades him, and fucks him raw and fast.

Struggling in agony against the muscular power of the Master, Mairon tries to adjust to Him until he realizes that he was undone the second that His thick cock has breached him. He doesn’t scream, even if excruciatingly painful, yet in parallel with that pain, intense the pleasure and satisfaction. Filled by Him the way he desired, Mairon gasps deliciously, his body shaking uncontrollably in quivers of pleasure, one after the other.

As he hears His gasps for starting to thrust sinking farther up into him, Mairon feels the power over Him, and takes the shaft moving in and out inside him, matching the heavy breathing with his own, and sharing groans while the Master moves even deeper working its way inside him. He fucks him like that, roughly. And nothing is spoken for several minutes as they both grunt and groan together, pant together, move together. They achieve a common rhythm.

With a small cry, the pleasure of it has embarrassingly taken over by a deeper connection than he never had with Him before, Mairon comes. And still, following the same pace Mairon goes on with Him, moving his hips in consort with His thrusts, resigned that it now would ever be how it is to be with his Master. His cry spurs Him on and soon Melkor comes too, yelling out in pleasure, which makes Mairon feel wonderful as a part of Him, and blessed more than any other being.

Melkor doesn’t speak anymore but instead pulls him in closer, and takes him to His bedroom.

Perhaps, his Master craves the adoration and obsession that he feels for Him more than He craves for him,

Or, perhaps, it is Mairon that loves his own obsession for Him more than Him.

**Author's Note:**

> About the last part, when they have their intercourse: I like to think that Melkor, in his madness, foresees perfectly Mairon's evolution through the ages.
> 
> ❤ thank ❤ you ❤ for ❤ reading ❤


End file.
